


Crash Into Me

by reversetheuniverse



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2018-08-15 22:21:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8075083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reversetheuniverse/pseuds/reversetheuniverse
Summary: Touch your lips just so I know
  
  In your eyes, love, it glows so
  
  I'm bare boned, and crazy for you

//
a collection of riarkle drabbles i've written.





	1. walk away now and you're gonna start a war

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah i needed a place to put all my smaller riarkle drabbles/ficlets that i write and post to my tumblr, so this'll be it!! 
> 
> to stay updated on my riarkle fics, you can look under my riarkle tag on my tumblr at unfoldinglikeaflower.tumblr.com/tagged/riarkle
> 
> thanks for reading, all you lovely people!!! :)
> 
> [the title of this fic is borrowed from the song "Crash Into Me" by Dave Matthews Band. also I know I changed it just bear with me through my difficulties in naming fics okay thanks]

Farkle’s not one for much fighting, but debate? Yeah, he can do that.

In fact, he _loves_ to debate. He loves the rush he gets from causing his opponent’s blood boil, loves to prove himself right in any way he can. Because he’s Farkle Minkus, and Farkle Minkus is a _winner_. But there are some aspects of debate that he absolutely _despises_.

Namely, Riley Matthews.

Riley Matthews is a new member to the rival team, and she has been their saving grace since she got there. Although her outward appearance may be happy and optimistic, with flowers and bunnies and rainbows surrounding her constantly, her inward traits is that she can argue—and she’s _damn good at it_.

That makes Farkle seethe.

He has to prove her wrong. He’s always been on top; that’s just how it is. Debate is _his_ thing, not _hers_ , and he will not allow some flouncy girl in a floral-print dress to take him down. He’s proud, and he doesn’t care one bit about people’s opinions on that fact.

Farkle does hold his title for quite a while, despite Riley being a formidable opponent. It always happens right in the last few minutes of the debates they have—Farkle finds some way to undermine Riley’s argument, and then stomps on her and crushes her into the ground like an ant pressed under the heel of his shoe. Riley always gives him this _look_ afterward, one that makes his heart beat wildly out of his chest (from the sheer satisfaction of defeating her, of course), and he’s never felt more on top of the world.

. . . But _then_.

“Alright, your topic for today is, ‘Should science continue to be taught in high school?’ The first one to talk will be Farkle Minkus,” the mediator says, and Farkle steps up to the stand, confident as ever, a smug look on his face. Science is _his_ subject. He’s got this in the bag.

“Thank you.” He clears his throat once before continuing. “I believe science _is_ necessary to be taught in high school. Science can be quantified and measured to an exact, and it can even explain why we’re all here. Science spawned and continues to spawn the greatest of our inventors and discoverers—Tesla with the A/C current, Albert Einstein and his development of the theory of relativity, even Copernicus discovering something as simple as the planets revolving around the sun. Science moves us forward into the future, and is necessary for our children, and our children’s children, and so on, to keep moving through their own future, too.

“In short, arguing over something as simple as keeping science in schools is so asinine. There is no other answer to this.” Farkle takes a small bow, stepping back from the podium to return to his team.

“Thank you for that, Farkle. Next up will be Riley Matthews. Now Riley, should science be taught in high school?” Riley rises from her table, strutting up to the podium with that dumb walk she has, one that makes her hips swish back and forth and that Farkle can’t take his eyes off of. It makes him mad that she has such swagger, because she shouldn’t feel that confident after he practically decimated her with his side of the argument. He watches her, nonetheless, leaning back in his chair with his hands on the back of his head and a grin on his face, because he just _knows_ she can’t win, not on this.

“Hello, all,” Riley speaks into the microphone as soon as she’s reached the stand. Her voice is effervescent and her cheeks rounded and rosy by her smile, and Farkle can only roll his eyes. “My stance on this debate is that _no_ , high schools should _not_ teach science.” Farkle practically falls out of his chair after hearing those words escape her lips.

She’s _insane_!!

“Science is not necessary in high schools. By the time we have reached high school, the science becomes repetitive. Sometimes it isn’t even necessary for the career paths some of us choose to go down, and yet they continue to make it a requirement to graduate. And then when subjects such as evolution are taught, it infringes upon the beliefs of many students, students who believe in intelligent design in opposition. Science becomes more harmful than beneficial by the time teenagers enter high school, because we have never been more confused about life in general during that point. By the time middle school ends, we have been provided with a sufficient amount of scientific knowledge to provide us with the choice of what we could decide to pursue when we are older.

“In conclusion to my argument, science becomes soft when we reach high school, and no longer becomes necessary for pushing us along in our academic careers. Thank you.”

Everyone claps as Riley exits the stage, her head held high with self-assurance, and Farkle’s jaw drops. How could she _possibly_ win a debate with an argument like that? That was her murdering her own chance at winning, and she did it _willingly_. He’s astonished, to say the least.

“Alright, the judges will take a moment to decide who the winner is for this competition. Please remain seated during this time,” the mediator announces. Farkle’s mouth is still unhinged, and he’s gaping at Riley. She chuckles at him when she catches his expression, telling him,

“You better close your mouth, Farkle. You don’t want flies to inhabit it, now do you?”

Farkle shuts his mouth immediately, his cheeks burning red with a mix of embarrassment and fury. He will _not_ sit in his chair while Riley Matthews insults him. Not on his watch.

The judges return five minutes later with an envelope in hand, giving it up to the mediator. Farkle’s leg bounces up and down from pure nervousness, despite the fact that he knows he’s got it in the bag.

“Alright, now it’s time for me to announce the winner of this competition,” the mediator tells the teams and the crowd. His fingers fumble to rip open the gold stamp-sealed envelope, but he eventually gets it open, retracting the slip of paper from inside. He unfolds it carefully, and when the name appears before him, he says, “The winner is . . . _Riley Matthews!!!_ ”

He. Cannot. _BELIEVE IT._

Did he really just lose to _Riley_? This cannot be happening.

“Thank you!” she says, blowing kisses to the audience as they clap for her. Farkle feels his blood pressure rise within his veins, not fond of the feeling being on his end. His teammates pat him on the back and offer him words of reassurance, but Farkle is _pissed._

This has gotta be rigged.

So he rises from his chair and advances towards Riley, about a billion words running in his head, some (if not most) of them quite unfriendly and distasteful, but mostly just wanting to argue that she was most certainly _wrong_.

“ _Riley_ ,” he states her name firmly, tapping on her shoulder to gain her attention. She turns on her heel to face him, the scent of roses filling his nostrils.

“Farkle! Good debate today! I’m sorry you lost, though,” she says with a smile (that Farkle is _certain_  is fake.)

“No, I don’t think I did. I think that _you_ ,” he points at her, tapping his index finger to her forehead, “Cheated.” She raises a brow at him.

“Farkle, don’t be a sore loser. I didn’t cheat, I won this competition fair and square. You can’t always come out on top, and this just happened to be my time to shine. So just let it go and return home so you can relax.”

Riley steps away from him, walking down the stairs to get out the side double-doors leading to the hallway. Farkle storms after her, not letting it go like she advised. He _will_ win this. She does not deserve to rip away his title of champion from him.

“See, I don’t think you understand, Riley,” he utters as soon as he catches up with her. She stops and turns around, her lips drawn into a thin line. “Science _does_ need to be taught in high schools. It has to be—we wouldn’t be where we are today without it!”

“I know that, Farkle,” Riley says softly, her almond brown eyes staring at him sympathetically.

“No, you couldn’t possibly know that! You said it in your argument that you didn’t believe it, and I have to prove you wrong!!” he exclaims.

“I’m not wrong, Farkle, but neither are you! It’s _just_ a debate, alright?!” Riley raises her voice at him. She has his collar in a vice grip, her face only inches away. Good, that’s _exactly_ what Farkle wanted—to get her fired up.

“It’s not “just a debate”! It’s a conversation on whether or not our future children will be learning something in the future! It’s—” he attempts to counter, but then all of a sudden he’s being pushed up against the lockers, and Riley is _kissing him_.

_What?!_

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands or anything, but all he does know is that he _likes it_. Her lips are warm and rough against his, and she tastes like strawberry lipgloss, and Farkle thinks that he might be in heaven.

“There,” Riley mutters a minute later, breathless from their exchange. “Is that what you wanted?!”

But all that tumbles out of Farkle’s mouth is,

“BOYLALALOU!!!”

So Riley kisses him again, and he can’t say that he minds her tactics. She is, after all, a champion debater.

And a very persuasive one, at that.


	2. i swear to drunk i'm not god

To engage in a restful slumber is a peace unlike any other, but to _dream_? What an extraordinary thing it is, indeed.

. . . Except Riley will probably never be able to achieve it due to the ringing noise of something bouncing off her window.

What is that noise, anyhow? She prays that it’s not some sort of night pigeons ready to attack her and give her rabies. She’s had nightmares about that kind of thing happening for weeks on end now, and the last thing she needs is discovering that it’s true.

Despite her heart not wanting to tear her body from the comforts of her own bed, the cacophonous noise endures much to her own chagrin, and her mind wins the battle in the end. If it is ravenous night pigeons, at the very least she’s got a bat ready to take those suckers down.

Her feet find the will to pull her out from under the covers and to the bay window, grabbing the bat nearby as a weapon on the ready. She pulls the curtains aside slowly (look, those nightmares are _terrifying_ ; she’s got to relax herself somehow), and . . .

_What. In. The. Heck._

Riley’s bat drops to the ground and she groans, throwing open the bay window and crossing her arms against her chest firmly.

“ _Farkle Minkus_ ,” she says his name sternly, “Why, exactly, are you throwing rocks at my window at—” she glances over to her alarm clock quickly, “ _Two in the morning?!”_ The dim light caressing his frame in a halo shows not much of him, but his flushed cheeks are clear as day to her.

“Hello, fair maiden,” he says with a wide grin and a hiccup in between. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” Riley’s lips narrow.

“Farkle, it’s the cheap light we installed overhead because you guys like to pop over at my window at ungodly hours of the night—which apparently includes two a.m.!!!”

“It is the east, and Riley is the sun,” he tells her, pointedly ignoring her snarky quip from before. Every once in a while, he stumbles a bit, his hand gripping tight on the black-iron railing of the fire escape.

“Oh my god, are you _drunk?!_ ” Riley exclaims, her eyes widening. “ _I swear to god._ ” Farkle steps closer and puts a finger against her lips, shushing her.

“Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly; then your love would also change.” She gently removes Farkle’s fingers from her lips, still holding onto his hand but rolling her eyes at him.

“You’re _ridiculous_ ,” she says incredulously, but now she’s more amused by his actions than anything. “You should go home and rest, and then maybe come back and deliver these lines while you’re not drunk?”

“R- _Riley_ ,” he manages after another hiccup, only inches away from her face. “I need to ask you something.”

“Yes, Farkley?” Riley asks with a chuckle.

“Have I stolen your heart through Shakespeare quotes yet? Maya said it’d work.”

“Of course she did,” Riley remarks, unamused. “Yes, it has, Farkle. But I’d rather you say these things to me when the sun is up and I’m not trying to sleep and you’re _not drunk_. How about a kiss on the cheek and we’ll call it a night; is that okay?”

“That’s _awesome_ ,” he tells her, leaning his cheek forward. Riley shakes her head but obliges, pressing a chaste kiss against his burning skin. She’s afraid he might faint afterward, but he somehow manages to keep it together in the end.

“Now go _home_ , Farkle. And don’t get drunk at parties with Maya again! She’s a bad influence on you.” Farkle nods his head furiously, slowly backing away to go climb down the fire escape, stealing peeks at her as he tries to descend. He’s almost disappeared when his face comes into view again, a lackadaisical smile painted plain upon his face.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow!” he shouts, loud enough that it echoes in the alleyway below and causes some dogs in the neighborhood to start barking.

“ _Shhhh!!!_ Keep it down, Farkle! You don’t want to wake my—” Riley attempts to quiet him, but soon her door is being thrown open, her father standing in its wake, face as red as can be.

“ _A BOY?!?!”_ he shouts, his fist raised.

“Farkle, run!!!” Riley warns Farkle, her dad scrambling out of the open window after him.

“Goodnight, sir!” Farkle exclaims, disappearing down the fire escape.

“Don’t you _“sir”_ me, you hooligan!!!” Cory hollers, plunging down the fire escape after him. Riley sighs at the two of them, shutting her window tight and locking it, pushing the curtains over it to shield her from the outside.

At least she can get some rest now.

“ _FARKLE MINKUS, I’M GONNA GET YOU GOOD, DO YOU HEAR ME YA LITTLE RASCAL?!?_ ”

Well . . . _sort of_.


	3. stay the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **prompt: Farkle comforting Riley.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A recent prompt I fulfilled for someone on tumblr! They wanted me to do a fic where Riley comforts Farkle or Farkle comforts Riley after a breakup. I loved being able to have something to distract me from having to study for my test, so I decided to write this one.
> 
> Enjoy! :)
> 
> [my tumblr where i post whatever but mostly fic stuff is unfoldinglikeaflower.tumblr.com!]

Riley’s college experiences had been filled with ups and downs since she started. She had to deal with less than desirable grades, endless nights studying for stupidly hard tests, writing papers with six hours to spare. She thought she’d dealt with it all, because that’s what it truly felt like. But then she was hit with a complete curveball, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

Lucas broke up with her.

To be honest, she saw it coming. She and Lucas had been drifting for a long while now, their relationship becoming more lackluster over the four years it subsisted. After her move scare in the ninth grade, their relationship persisted more out of obligation than anything.

She just wished they’d realized it sooner.

Four years. _Four years_ of her life washed away because she was weak and couldn’t make it work. Riley had a feeling it had also been because his feelings had swayed once again towards someone of the blonde persuasion (she wouldn’t hold it against Maya; they really were a perfect match for each other).

It still hurt, though.

She felt like someone’s rope they had drug along just because they had it, and it made her feel truly inferior to Maya. It was like she had become someone’s last, easy choice, a bottom-of-the-barrel girl.

Riley felt so _worthless_.

After her breakup, she crashed in her dorm room sans Maya; she was working on an art project late at night and Riley had yet to let her know that she had split from Lucas. She collapsed on her bed in a huff with the half-eaten tub of ice cream her and Maya had bought from the campus store. She put on her favorite romantic comedy, _When Harry Met Sally_ , and proceeded to cry her heart out for the next hour.

In the middle of the movie, a knock erupted from her door, and she had no clue who it could be.

“Coming!” Riley announced, setting her now-empty ice cream container to the side, rubbing furiously at her tear-stained cheeks before opening the door, praying that it wasn’t noticeable that she had been crying. Unfortunately for her, the person waiting at the door had been Farkle, and right as he saw her, his resolve crumbled.

“Can I come in?” he asked, holding up the bags in his hands, “I have food.” Riley half-sobbed half-laughed, inviting him inside. He took his shoes off by the door like he always had growing up in that tower of a home he had, turning to Riley to hand her the plastic bags so that he could shrug off his coat. Riley set the bags on her bed, waiting for Farkle to say something, anything once he was ready. Instead, he pulled her in for a tight hug, knowing it was what Riley needed most.

She did always love his knack for being able to figure out what she really needed or was feeling.

“I shouldn’t be upset over it. He was really nice about it, and we had been drifting,” Riley told him, burying her nose into Farkle’s shoulder.

“Doesn’t matter. A breakup is a breakup. Isa- _Smackle_ and I were amicable, but it still hurt for me. She had been a big part of my life, and Lucas was a big part of yours. Don’t feel bad about it,” he told her, standing back to get a look at her. He offered her a sympathetic smile as he brushed a stray tear from her face.

“I think he has feelings for Maya,” Riley sighed. “I always kind of figured, but it just makes me feel like I was a placeholder for something better to come along.”

“Hey, cut that out. You’re no one’s placeholder,” Farkle said sternly. “You’re Riley Matthews, sweetest, kindest, crazy, unique, most gorgeous girl to grace this earth. If Lucas didn’t see that, then he didn’t deserve you.”

Riley nodded, but she didn’t want to return to her crying fits again, even if the crying would’ve been caused more by Farkle’s kind words than her feeling crappy over the end of a four-year relationship. Instead, she looked up into his steel-gray eyes.

“Can you stay the night? I just want someone here to keep me company and watch movies with me,” Riley pleaded. Farkle’s brow furrowed.

“Of _course_ ,” he agreed, and suddenly he was tugged across the room to where Riley’s bed was as she urged him to sit. He did so, allowing her to situate herself next to him before he pressed a little further.

“Where’s Maya? Did you tell her?” Riley shook her head.

“She doesn’t know. I didn’t tell anyone yet, to be honest. I thought I just wanted to be alone.”

“Well, I hope you don’t mind, but Lucas told me. He knew that you would want company,” Farkle explained.

“I’m mad that he’s right,” Riley sunk in her place. Farkle leaned his head over to rest it on Riley’s, grabbing her hand to lace his fingers with hers.

“I’m happy he let me know, otherwise you would’ve forced yourself to suffer the entire night. So now I’ll stay as long as you want me to, and I’ll even skip classes tomorrow with you if you just want to watch romantic comedies all day long,” he offered. Riley beamed, her heart soaring. She didn’t deserve a guy like Farkle in her life, not at all.

“I would love it if you did, but I’m not about to let Farkle Minkus, boy genius, skip his classes because of my stupid emotional problems.”

“Quit it. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t. You matter a lot to me, Riley Matthews, and I will only leave when you really want me to. Got that?” Riley blushed.

“Okay,” she said quietly. She was used to Farkle’s fierce loyalty, but it always caught her off-guard when he displayed it, especially now. Riley wasn’t sure why it affected her the way it did this time around, but she decided not to question it and instead just enjoy his presence as they watched movies together.

Farkle Minkus was her rock, and she appreciated that more than he would ever know.


	4. polite company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> Can u do one with Farkle+his parents being Not There and Riley is there too bc of course

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _If you love me, give me nothing but polite company._
> 
> **\--polite company, rainbow kitten surprise**

He always hates these days the worst—the ones where everything just seems to be against him, as if the world had preordained his suffering. It doesn’t help that his parents aren’t even there for him to _talk_ to.

It’s just Farkle, a way too big house, and his thoughts that plague him with unnecessary worries.

 

If he’s even good enough.

If he’s even smart enough.

If he’s worth being loved.

 

He would go to his friends, but his body resists, making him stay alone in the house, waiting for a pair of people who are too focused on their business and social life to even pay attention to their teenage son. Instead, he sits in his window sill, staring at the droplets of rain falling, the gray clouds cascading above the entire city.

It's just a crummy day, and Farkle feels numb.

“Farkle, you should really know better than to think that I wouldn’t figure out you were upset.”

Riley appears in his doorway, her pink raincoat dripping water. Her chestnut brown eyes watch him carefully, as if quietly deciding something before she shucks herself of the wet garment by his door and walking over to join him at the window. There isn’t much room for her in the sill but she still manages to squeeze her way next to him, her mouth displaying a gentle smile.

“You know, whatever it is, you can talk to me about it. Friends can do that,” she points out to him, but his lips remain in a thin line as he shrugs his shoulders.

“It’s nothing.” She shoots him look of disbelief.

“Uh huh. _Nothing_. Well, if it’s nothing, then why are you upset?”

“I’m not,” he insists weakly, as if that’s a convincing enough argument. He should know Riley better than that by now.

She shakes her head, pulling Farkle into a tight embrace—one that manages to make him feel a little less weak and a little warm all over, but not quite curing his sadness.

He supposes that’s going to be a bit more difficult to fix.

It takes him a moment to raise his hands and reciprocate the hug, his chin leaning in to rest on her shoulder. She lets them stay there together like that until he decides he’s ready to let go (Farkle doesn’t think he could ever let go, but he knows he has to at some point). After ten minutes of silence and hugging pass, he sits back, clearing his throat as Riley eagerly awaits his words.

“They’re out again. I think my mom is catering to one of her many luncheons with her rich socialite friends and my dad is busy spending his entire day working on the next “big project”,” he explains. Riley grabs his hands and holds them.

“You need to tell them how you feel about it.” Farkle shakes his head, knowing fully that won’t do anything.

“They wouldn’t care,” he sighs, but that seems to be the wrong answer.

“Farkle, they’re your parents and they _care_. Sometimes even parents can be a little blind to their kids. Even my parents mess up sometimes, but you should at least try to let them know how it affects you. And if nothing good comes out of it, you always have me. _Always_ ,” she emphasized, her eyes sparkling as if it were her biggest truth in the universe.

It is for Farkle, at least.

“Will you stay with me?” he asks her, almost _begs_ her, and Riley smiles, nodding her head.

“I’ll stay with you as long as you want me to, Farkle. I love you.” Farkle manages a grin this time around, his heart swelling from her words.

“I love you, too, Riley,” he says, and that’s his biggest truth in the universe.

He has, and always will, love Riley Matthews. It’s written in the stars.


	5. i'm just a man on the moon, feet on the ground, i'm floating to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _anonymous asked:_   
>  _Well, I'm a sucker for cheesy Aus. Some of my favorites include if we're not married by x age lets get married and soulmate Aus (especially one I read once where you start seeing color once you meet your soulmate)._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another request from tumblr that I finally fulfilled! I like this one a lot and I hope you guys do, too. :)
> 
> Enjoy!

It all starts with a pact they made when they were six years old. Farkle still can’t believe he agreed to it, but it makes sense—his six-year-old self was absolutely, head-over-heels in love with Riley Matthews. If agreeing to it ensured that she’d still be in his life no matter the capacity, then he’d say yes in a heartbeat.

And, if he was being honest with himself, he’d probably _still_ say yes.

They made a pact that, by the time they were thirty, if neither of them married one another, then they’d marry each other.

Riley was always the romantic one out of all his friends; she grew up adoring fairytales, dreaming that one day she’d meet her knight in shining armor and he’d whisk her away on his white horse into the sunset. Farkle was practical—science ruled him, and he’d always chalk his boundless love for her up to a chemical reaction that his body made. Knights on white horses no longer existed, and that was practical.

But despite himself, he still agreed, and the pact slipped his mind up until the day Riley turned thirty.

He arrived at Maya’s apartment at exactly fifteen minutes to eight. She had planned the whole thing out accordingly: they’d set up two hours before, take a break to grab their things and any last-minute items they might have forgotten to get, and then fifteen minutes before they’d all wait at Maya’s house diligently, waiting for her and Riley to appear.

Farkle had to admit, Maya was pretty good at the whole party-planning thing. If he’d tried to set it up, it would’ve gone fantastically wrong, and Maya would never let him live it down. He’d end up hearing it on his death bed, because, inevitably, Maya would outlive all of them, with her memory intact and everything. But she set up the party, and all Farkle had to do was bring his gift, hide behind a couch, and yell, “Surprise!” when Riley made it through the door.

Easy-peasy.

Except Zay insisted on arriving at the last possible minute, his absence worrying Farkle because it was 7:55 in the evening, Maya had just texted Farkle that they would be there within the next five minutes, and Zay was nowhere to be seen.

Luckily enough, Smackle called him up to yell at him profusely and that she’d dump him if he didn’t get his ass over by the next five minutes, and he showed up in the doorway panting with two to spare. Farkle slapped him on the shoulder and stuck a party hat on him, announcing that he’d let Maya know how late he was, and that was enough to keep Zay from complaining.

At a minute after eight, Maya texts Farkle:

 

**Maya: at the front doors now**

**Maya: prepare ya pleb!**

Farkle does as he’s told, getting everyone to hush down immediately, turning off the lights before ducking back down behind the couch. The limbo of silence remained only for a moment, everyone preparing as the key turning in the lock echoes throughout the apartment. Once light emanating from the hallway flooded through the doorway and Maya flipped the light on, they all jumped up from their hiding places, shouting jubilantly.

_“SURPRISE!!!!”_

Riley immediately dropped her bags she held at her sides, her mouth falling open with shock.

“You guys _didn’t_ ,” Riley gasped, unable to contain her joy. Maya shrugged.

“We only do the best for Riley Matthews.”

The first thing she did once the shock wore off was hit up the section of the counter where Maya keeps her alcohol. Riley’s favorite is peach vodka, and Farkle made sure to stock up enough peach vodka to last her at least a life time, and she practically knocks him over once he tells her that’s part of her thirtieth birthday gift. Before her excitement dies down, she presses a chaste kiss to his cheek and then has him promise to take five birthday shots with her, which he agrees to without hesitation.

Of course, he’d go to the moon and back for her, but he’ll start as small as five shots of peach vodka. That seemed doable.

They chased each shot with some peach nectar that Farkle also brought, and he could tell why she liked it so much. It was refreshing, and despite it not having the highest alcohol content it could have, it was still enough to give them a pleasant buzz.

Though why he was searching for a pleasant buzz at the tender age of thirty was beyond him.

Farkle spent the rest of the portion of the night before the presents and cake alternating between picking off of the hors d’oeuvre plates Maya had set up nicely on the center island counter and striking up conversation with his friends and the friends of Riley’s Maya had invited, some from work, some close friends from college. It was fun, but even Farkle could admit that he wasn’t a party type of guy, especially since he had hit the third decade of his life.

Thirty was . . . _thirty_. It was the age where you were supposed to have your job figured out, have your spouse and your 2.5 kids and a house with a white-picket fence—the _American Dream_. It was the year that your life became solidified and everything was under wraps.

Farkle had the whole job thing down, but he didn’t know anything about long-term commitment.

. . . Not that he didn’t want it, ‘cause _God_ , did he want it, it just . . . what he wanted and what he was going to get weren’t necessarily the same thing.

“Alright, present time!” Maya announced about an hour and a half into the party, standing on a chair at her dining room table, wine glass in one hand and a spoon to clang against it in another. The presents people had brought Riley were neatly stacked on the table beside her, each one wrapped in either bright and fun or crisp and pastel paper, all the while still inviting. Riley bounded over to the table first enthusiastically, everyone else gathering around.

“Am I allowed to open them now?” Riley asked, her face patient and calm but still filled with mirth. Maya nodded her head and she began to rip into every last one vigorously, making sure to pause after to let each person know that she enjoyed the gift.

Farkle hung back as he watched his friend have the time of her life, glad that they were able to provide her with a birthday suitable for her. It’s not too hard to make Riley Matthews happy, all things considered, but they still put forth the effort to go the extra mile for her because she deserved it, one-hundred percent so.

She’s touched when a friend from college gives her a whole photo album of them during their college years. She almost died from laughter when the amount of bath products begins to stack up and Zay suggested that it was them indicating she smelled bad. A shared grin is passed between her and Lucas when he gifts her a bag of thirty purple jelly beans—a joke from years ago, bittersweet but no hard feelings between them.

And Farkle’s gift was the last to be opened, as if Riley knew which one was his and saved it as the final gift. She’d always liked his presents, and had, unwittingly over the years, always managed to save them for the very end as if she was saving the best for last.

Farkle was more than okay with it, and he’d never revealed to her that he knew her secret for fear that she might stop if he did.

Riley picked at the metallic black wrapping paper carefully, much more so than she did with the rest. She took her time for sure, and she gasped as soon as she found the present that lie inside.

“It’s a star chart of the day you were born, down to the very minute. I had to ask your mother for the details, but she was happy to give them to me,” Farkle explained. “I know it doesn’t seem like much, but—”

Riley tackled Farkle in a binding embrace, her heart beating erratically in her chest.

“Thank you! You’re the best, Farkle!” she exclaimed, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. It burnt in wake of her, and Farkle couldn’t help but blush, shying away from her touch as soon as she broke away from him.

“Well, I think we all know who won the ‘best present’ contest,” Maya joked, earning laughter from the rest of the people surrounding the table. That only made Farkle blush more, and after Riley announced that she wanted a bit of time before her cake to just relax, he ducked out onto Maya’s terrace, letting the cool breeze meet his cheeks as he overlooked the city below.

“Hey, who told you that you were allowed to escape my party?” Riley asked as she stepped outside, joining him at the railing.

“Sorry, I just needed some air,” Farkle told her, sighing. “So, thirty, huh?” Riley nodded her head in agreement.

“Yeah, thirty. It’s alright. Kind of dull, though. I thought I’d be doing more exciting things.”

“Oh, and being in charge of your own journalism company isn’t enough?” he said, tugging at a strand of her hair that had been cropped shorter since she’d been in her late twenties. Riley smiled at that, shrugging.

“It’s alright, I guess. But I’d like other things, too.”

“Like what? A plantation on Mars?”

“Pluto, more like,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “But that’s not what I mean. I kind of want to start building my own family, you know? I want that big wedding that everyone talks about for years to come, and children that’ll look up to me like I do my dad. And a cool dog; I never got that growing up,” Riley added, chuckling. Farkle was quiet for a moment, thinking and thinking, until he remembered something. Then he just doubled over in laughter, leaving Riley puzzled.

“Oh my god,” he choked out through tears, “I just remembered something.”

“What?” she inquired, a confused, half-smile gracing her face.

“We had that pact, remember? That one we made when we were six, sitting on our favorite playground with me in my huge glasses that made me look like a dork and you in that princess dress you refused to take off. You and I agreed that if we were both still single when we turned thirty that we’d get married,” Farkle explained.

“Of _course_ I remember that. I was the one that suggested it, after all.”

“We were pretty young and dumb to agree to that,” Farkle grinned, but that quickly disappeared when Riley said,

“Well, we’re thirty and single now. Is it really all that dumb?” Farkle stopped breathing a moment, his mind reeling as Riley’s words raced through his mind.

Was she . . . what was she implying? Did she mean that she _was_ considering it? Or was she just trying to pull a prank on Farkle?

After a long minute of Farkle studying her features, trying his best to determine what it meant, he could only come to one conclusion—she was _serious_. Riley Matthews, his best friend since he was five, was completely serious about a pact they made when they were six. Which only meant one thing—

Riley wanted to marry him, and that just didn’t seem real at all.

“Are you saying you want to marry me?” Farkle asked, still in shock. He noticed her cheeks turn a delicate red, almost unrecognizable by the darkness surrounding them. But she stilled, tucking her hair behind her ear; an act that Farkle knew she did when she was shy or embarrassed by something.

“Would you be alright if I said yes?” she replied with a question softly. “I know it seems weird, but I’ve been thinking about it _a lot_ lately, probably more than I should. I thought that you had maybe forgotten it, which you had, but it still mattered to me. I know this seems pretty sudden, but—” Riley began, only for her to be cut off by Farkle’s lips pressing up against hers.

He knew he was taking a gamble, but Riley was always the one gamble he was willing to make. He’d risk house and home for her, not just because she was his best friend, but because he’d been forever in love with her. And here she was suddenly, baring herself to him because of a stupid pact they’d made when they were barely even six. Because something like that meant something to Riley; no, it wasn’t stupid at all.

Riley’s hands reached up to grab at the nape of Farkle’s neck, finger nails clawing at his hair, desperate for the contact he was giving her. His own hands fell down to her waist, holding her close because he wasn’t about to let something as precious as her slip from his grasp.

Not now. Not ever.

“So, I take it that was a yes?” Riley laughed a moment later, both of them breathless from the kiss. Farkle leaned his forehead up against hers, kissing the tip of her nose.

“We’re not really conventional people, are we? Of course it’s a yes, it’s a _hell_ yes,” he answered her as if he were asked the easiest question in the world.

But really, he had. Marry Riley Matthews?

Yes. Without a doubt in his mind, _yes_.

“If I wanted conventional, I would’ve settled a long time ago,” Riley grinned. “But I want _you_ , and you were worth the wait.”

What a wonderful world he lived in. Riley Matthews wanted him as much as Farkle Minkus wanted her.

He couldn’t think of anything better.


End file.
